


Culture Shock

by CoilingThoughts



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 02:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoilingThoughts/pseuds/CoilingThoughts
Summary: Though the Primary Branch of reality is limited in what is permitted, there are many interesting deviations tolerated by the Will of Humanity.Or, EMIYA ends up in a world much like, and yet not like, his own, and is introduced to interesting differences in customs and clothing.





	Culture Shock

_ This world is insane _ , Archer thinks to himself as he looks down at this his younger self, rounded and softened and miniaturized compared to his memories, half-naked, tucking his head into the Servant’s chest.

It’s not the first time he’s been in a strange Grail War. He’s allied himself with every single Servant at least once, and many of them more times. Occasionally the war is somewhere other than Fuyuki, or the city is substantially different to how he remembers it. Once in a long while the world itself is different. Some however-many wars ago there was a world where every single human, mage or not, possessed a single specialized magic circuit which responded sympathetically to another - a soulmark, in the common parlance. He remembers flashes from the moments between Alaya’s summons, images of stranger humanities still.

He knows that worlds like this exist, and the Grail gave him full knowledge of the reality he found himself in, but there’s a world of difference between knowing that this humanity is divided between three different biological genders in addition to the two standard and finding out that this version of himself is an omega.

In truth, Archer hasn’t realized his younger self’s dynamic at all at first, just as although he had intellectually known, thanks to the Grail, that his Servant body was modelled after an alpha he hadn’t considered it an especially important fact. He doesn’t need to eat, and therefore the higher level of proteins in diet required by alphas in this world to build their proportionally bigger and bulkier bodies was irrelevant except when it came to aesthetics, and Heroic Spirits were already somewhat stylized in their manifestation by belief and the Grail anyway. Likewise, his body is constructed of prana and spirit, not cells and physical organs, so many of the hormonal and physiological differences to the ‘normal’ humanity he remembers were none of his concern. Rin’s alpha nature ignites none of the antagonism that the Grail suggested was typical, nor did Taiga’s. In truth, he paid little attention to the ‘secondary genders’, except where he idly noted the differences in certain relationships, or how homosexuality and sexuality as a whole was more generally accepted.

He had run into Shirou quite by accident. Following the destruction of the Grail, Rin had managed to re-contract him and supply him with just barely enough mana to continue his existence in spiritual form. It had taken almost a month before she had set up the magical infrastructure to carefully siphon the mana from the city to keep him corporeal. It was the merest fraction from every person within the city limits, excluding the elderly or the infirm, but the minute trickle from each built up, enough that he could maintain a physical form provided he didn’t use his Noble Phantasm or exert himself too much beyond the human norm. Apparently alphas and omegas both have a higher base Od level compared to betas and ergo ‘normal’ humans, so this tactic is feasible in this world.

He could still feel the nagging call of Alaya deep within himself, but he could… not  _ resist _ per se, but he didn’t have to answer. He had joked to himself that perhaps the Will of Humanity was giving him a vacation. He doesn’t really believe it, but he’s enjoying the respite while it lasts.

He cooked, watched television and the sky and ran errands for Rin. That’s why he is here at Shirou’s house so early in the morning. Rin has run out of milk in her fridge and he knows that Shirou has surplus. He hadn’t expected to stand up from the fridge to his younger self, clad only in distressingly-tight red boxers, falling into his arms with a bush, a moan and a waft of a scent which tugs on parts of him that he hadn’t acknowledged - hadn’t been able to acknowledge - since before his contract with Alaya.

Which all leads him here - to an omega,  _ his younger self _ , in his arms, a bottle of milk in his right hand and no idea what to do.

A shiver runs up his spine as Shirou mumbles something into his chest. Goosebumps run over his skin and he can feel something hot igniting inside him, something foreign and liquid and molten - something possessive. His trousers are starting to feel tight.

“Mmmsrry, smllgood,” comes the cloth-muffled mumble, vaguely intelligible this time. Then “Hot.”

Archer shuffles around and deposits the milk on a worktop. Shirou doesn’t let go, shifting around with him. The Servant feels like he’s gained a limpet. A hot, burning limpet that clings to him like a wet shirt.

It strikes him all of a sudden how  _ small _ this Shirou was compared to him, more than a foot shorter, his face on a level with the Servant’s collarbone. How fragile-looking despite what he knows this person has endured. He emerged from the same Fuyuki Fire as EMIYA, fought the same foes and holds the same Unlimited Blade Works within his soul. And yet, despite all that, he can’t help but think how  _ adorable _ Shirou looks tucked into his chest, can’t help but raise a hand to his hair and absently run a hand through it.

That is a mistake.

Shirou’s hair is soft, almost fluffy, and once he’s started he can’t stop. His fingers comb through the red-orange hair compulsively, then wander further down the neck. Something in his gut burns and - yes, he has an erection. The discipline of years clamps down and he pries Shirou off himself, much to the younger’s wordless protest. He steers his younger self to one side of the low table and down onto the floor and then, resisting the temptation to sit down next to Shirou and let him lean on him, crosses to the other side and sits, seiza-style.

He tries to ignore how much his groin disagrees with sitting like that.

“Shirou. What is wrong with you?”

The other seems to have regained something of himself, because he sluggishly gathers himself from a limp pile into sitting cross-legged and  _ he can see the outline of Shirou’s erection and the spot of dampness _ \- Archer yanks his eyes up to Shirou’s face, feeling the burn on his cheeks and spreading down his neck. His dick is harder than ever, and something inside curls, warm and smug.

His younger self looks almost drugged, pupils wide and mouth slack. Shirou blinks slowly, a little puzzled-looking. Archer’s eyes wander down the outline of his chest, lean and small, and linger on the shadow of Rin’s crest on his shoulder. They  _ definitely do not _ flick again to the spreading damp on the peaking boxers. As he watches, though, Shirou’s eyes seem to swim back into focus. Then the blush erupts like a volcano and his younger self buries his face in his hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry Archer! It-it’s just you kinda caught me at a bad ti-”

The Grail’s knowledge washes over the Servant like a wave. “Heat.”

The word escapes his lips like an arrow, like one of his infinite swords, and it strikes home. Shirou folds in on himself.

“I’m… really sorry,” he begins. “I’ve them before, but usually they come on slower. I was fine yesterday but then I woke up like this” - he gestures to himself - “And you walked in and I could  _ smell _ you from my room. You just- it was  _ good  _ and-” He trails off from his apologetics, and the Servant hates how some part of him like this, likes the deference. He’s noticed it before, that he enjoys confrontation slightly more and gets a little more of a kick out of victory, but it hasn’t been this strong before.  _ Perhaps because I’ve spent so long corporeal now? _ he wonders.

“It’s not a problem,” Archer assures him, although it really, really is. “What do you want me to do? Should I leave?”

Shirou lowers his hands from his face and Archer sees that his eyes are roaming too. It takes an effort not to puff his chest out, display the arms bared by his t-shirt like a peacock’s feathers, show himself off. At once it’s affirming and disturbing, and he’s not sure how to feel about it. Shirou opens his mouth as if to say something, then knits his hands together and closes it again, a picture of indecision. The smell returns, like apples and honey and summer warmth. His skin prickles with energy as a pink tongue flicks out to moisten the omega’s lips, then darts back in again.

On impulse, he says, “Or I can stay.”

He means to ask it as an actual question, but it comes out straighter than that, more forceful. Like it was meant to be rhetorical. He’s about to clarify when Shirou replies.

“Yes!” It’s almost a whine. Archer’s cock jumps in his pants. Shirou’s face is the colour of a tomato. “Please,” he continues. “I’ve… I’ve not had anyone in my- my heat before and… I like you. I know it’s- weird and you’re, like,  _ me _ , or a me, or something, but… It’s not like we’re in one of those romance novels, right? It’s not forever. But- I want you, Archer.”

The heat in his stomach erupts into an inferno and with a shock Archer realizes that he’s subvocalizing, somewhere between a purr and a growl. Shirou is looking at the ground, the very picture of the demure omega that this world idolizes, just as his own idolized the hourglass-woman and the triangle-man. It’s at once viscerally pleasing and deeply troubling. He doesn't like it, seeing his younger self - seeing  _ Shirou _ \- so very vulnerable-looking, and yet simultaneously it’s an ego-trip.

Root_ I’m messed up_, he thinks to himself. This is wrong. _This is all wrong._ _He _is wrong, because what he says is “Are you sure?”

Shirou looks up, catching him in hazel-brass eyes, his face set in determination. He nods earnestly. “Yes.”

Archer wants to jump across the table and lay the other out over the floor, take him right there. However, it’s 7 o’clock in the morning and Taiga is due to arrive any minute now for her breakfast. “Go get dressed,” he says. “I’ll write a note to Taiga. We can’t do it here.”

Shirou’s eyes light up, then he frowns. It’s adorable. “Where?”

“I know a place,” Archer says, remembering what feels like a hundred lifetimes ago, remembering Fuyuki and what he knew of it.

Shirou leaves, casting a glance over his shoulder as he steps into the corridor which Archer knows leads to his bedroom. He closes his eyes, breathing in deeply to collect himself, then regretting that as he inhales the honey-sweet-summer smell which is inexplicably arousing. He grimaces, then grabs up the milk bottle, steps out of the house and launches himself over the rooftops towards the Tohsaka mansion. He deposits the bottle on the table, grabs up the wallet he bought three weeks previously, when he got tired of asking Rin for money, and rushes back to the Emiya house.

The wind and clear air both ways blast away Shirou's scent and lets him think. Should he be doing this? Shirou is well over the Japanese age of consent, and he can’t deny that he doesn’t want to. He’s still disquieted, though. The Grail’s knowledge informs him that heat is not considered coercion when it comes to consent, but that doesn't change how he feels about it. Moreover, Shirou is  _ him _ , a different him and one that certainly won’t become him, but he’s what EMIYA could once have been.

He remembers the horrors that he’s seen, mages and normal humans alike using a horrific variety of means to abuse their fellow man, and he can’t help but see the similarity between these omega heats and seduction magic, or even date-rape drugs. Archer has never quite lost his regard of sex as something in some way special, all the way through his service to humanity and then to Alaya. He has his kinks and the things he likes, and they’re not all ‘I want to see you happy’, but he’s never achieved the level of detachment from the emotional component that Rin or other mages have. The way that omegas are literally biologically wired towards submissiveness feels  _ wrong  _ in principle, and at the same time  _ right _ in person.

For a long minute he lingers on a rooftop across from the Emiya house. Should he leave? Keep himself from the temptation? Shirou would get through the heat just fine on his own, and it would only last a day or two. There would be no real consequences if he didn’t, barring disappointing his younger self - and, if he is honest, himself. He feels like it’s been an age since he lay with anyone, much less someone he  _ wants _ on such a level as he does Shirou, messed up as it is.

An image swims into his head; Shirou’s blush, his pink tongue like a cat’s, his face pressed into Archer’s chest, his scent…

_ Fuck, _ he thinks, then cracks the beginning of a smile at the absurdity of it all before leaping down and into the courtyard of the Emiya house.

Shirou is waiting for him at the door, dressed in his customary shirt and trousers. A small bag is slung over his shoulder. He shifts from one foot to the other, mingled apprehension and eagerness written as plain on his face as the blush that blooms on his cheeks.

“Are you ready?” the Servant asks. Shirou nods. Archer sinks to his knees and gestures for Shirou to climb on his back. “Get on.”

“What?”

“It’s the quickest way to get there.”

The teenager chews his lip, then steps forwards. On a whim, Archer Reinforces his nose and is assaulted with the same sweet, clutching scent as before. His dick, which had softened in his pants, is hard again in moments. As Shirou climbs on, the Servant begins to pick out the undertones he’d trained himself to identify back when he was human. Anticipation and eagerness and fear and, over all of it, lust. The dark-skinned man shivers again and tries desperately to keep his mind out of the gutter, away from Shirou in his boxers, Shirou without his boxers, Shirou on his back, on his front, on his knees-

_ Too late. _

He drops the Reinforcement and hooks his arms under the teenager’s legs, holding him in place. He’s hyper-aware of the boy’s weight and heat against his back, of the contrast with the cool morning air, of the whisper of his breath by his ear. “Ready?”

“Ready,” says Shirou, and Archer doesn’t waste time, clamping his arms down harder before kicking off from the ground.

It’s a wild few minutes of leap-land-leap before they arrive in an alleyway on the outskirts of one of the less salubrious areas Archer lets his cargo down, immediately missing the heat of the breath against his ear. He takes advantage of Shirou’s moment of distraction in straightening his clothes and hair and rubbing the feeling back into his cheeks to surreptitiously adjust his pants to hopefully make it a little less obvious. He doesn’t really succeed, not helped by the fact that part of the alpha condition is apparently an outsize endowment.

Once Shirou’s arranged himself, they walk out of the alley and get a look at the front of the building next-door. It’s a six-story hotel-looking construction, well-maintained for its position. The sign over the door proclaims its name to be  _ Red Rose _ , as cliché a name for a love hotel as EMIYA’s ever known, but he’s been there before and they’re both tasteful and discreet. He glances down at his young companion, who has shrunk behind him a little, and looks like he’s staring down a Servant. He turns to him.

“Are you sure about this, Shirou? Because I am perfectly happy with any decision you make.” A lie. He’s an inch from frog-marching his younger self through the doors, and if Shirou does decline he’ll be spending the rest of the day in a cold shower, but he  _ will _ adhere to the other’s decision. No matter how Shirou’s been brought up, no matter the expectations he feels he has to live up to, no matter how this world works, he’ll do what is right. He is a man of ideals. It is what he is.

That won’t make it hurt less, though.

Shirou hesitates for a long moment, then his face firms into determination again. “Yes. “I’m sure.”

Archer smiles and strides forwards, feeling like a sun is bursting in his chest. The young woman at the reception desk looks up with a resigned look on her face and bags under her eyes deep enough to carry groceries home in.

“How can I help you?” she says, glancing between him and Shirou.

“What options do you have available for rooms?” Archer asks. The receptionist tiredly hands him a brochure before returning to staring at something on-screen. Archer flicks through the booklet. Each page is topped with a name that’s trying too hard to be poetic, followed by flowery descriptions and images. Most of them are generic, but Archer has little else to spend his money on and wants this to be something special for Shirou. He stops at the third-to-last.

“What do you think about this one?” he asks his younger self, who seems to be trying to sink into the floor. He holds out the brochure, using a thumb to keep the page open. Shirou takes it and scans down the page. Archer doesn’t bother to hold back the smile at how the teen’s eyes widen and his cheeks burn.

“Isn’t it a bit expensive?” he asks eventually, handing the brochure back.

“That’s not a problem,” Archer replies. “What do you think?”

“It looked- good,” the teen says. “I, uh, I liked the look of the bath.”

“We’ll do that, then,” says EMIYA, turning to the receptionist. “I would like to book the Desert Oasis suite for the next twenty-four hours.”

“That’ll be eleven thousand yen for a full day and night,” says the receptionist. Silently, Archer pulls out his wallet and counts out the money in notes. He knows he probably looks like a yakuza member, given his appearance and the fact he’s paying in cash, but he doesn’t really care. It’s not like he has a credit card anyway. The receptionist pulls a key card from somewhere underneath her desk, tapes a couple of keys and swipes it on a device next to her computer.

“Here you go, sir. This will work until 10 AM tomorrow morning. If you wish to extend your stay, please just come and ask. And may I say that you make a lovely couple?” The words are trite and Archer knows that they’re company policy, but the suggestion that he and Shirou were a couple makes him feel… odd. Smug and prideful, but at the same time vaguely ashamed.

“Hey, Archer!” comes a voice. The Servant turns to see Shirou walking across to the elevator. A smile breaks out across his face again.

“Eager,” he teases before striding over himself and clapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders. To his surprise, Shirou pushes into the arm, into him, rather than pulling away. The honey-apple-summer came again and his cock hardens. The images of the bed in the brochure spring forth and now they feature Shirou there, Shirou bare.

He growls, punching the elevator button. Shirou presses harder into him, and he catches a new scent. It doesn’t map directly to anything he’s smelled before, but some deep part of him knows.  _ Readiness _ . The Grail comes forward again, he remembers the basics of omega anatomy; the pheromone glands at the neck and crotch, the slick glands at the rim of the anus-

Reflexively, his arm tenses, pulling Shirou even further into him. The boy yelps, but it’s surprise rather than fear, and it only intensifies the desire.

The elevator doors  _ ding _ and open, offering the distraction Archer needs to reclaim control of himself. Jerkily, he relaxes his arm and steps forwards into the elevator. Shirou follows. There was a smug look on his face, pleased as a cat with cream. Archer looked away and pressed the button for the sixth floor. At this rate, they wouldn’t make it to the suite before he had Shirou up against a wall-

_ No. Wait. Control yourself. _

The doors closed and the elevator began to move. “Um, Archer, are you alright?”

He turned to look at Shirou again. The smugness was gone, drowned beneath a look of worry.

“Fine,” he said, concentrating on the elevator muzak to pull himself together. “I’m alright.”

“Um, are  _ you _ sure you want to…?”

The Servant can’t help but laugh. “Oh, I want to. I just don’t want to do it  _ here _ . I want to get you into bed first, before I get your clothes off and-” he cuts himself off before he can go on a spiel about what he wants to do to that hair, to that face, to that chest, to that ass. It’s one of his kinks, he knows, and he doesn’t want it to get away with him just now. He doesn’t want to scare the teen. He’s intense at the best of times.

“Oh.” Shirou’s eyes are blown wide again, black within brass. The elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open. “Uh, which room is it?” Archer glances at the card. “Six-oh-four.”

It’s the fourth door down, and when it opens with the swipe of the card the Servant is greeted by a open room with a round double bed positioned below a wide, curtained window. The walls are hung with diaphanous drapes in shades of red and orange and the bed’s covers are the same, so that the whole of the room reminds him of a vivid sunset. The lighting is dim, but just right to bring out the colours. There’s a glass door on the right that leads into a walk-in bath, more like a mini-jacuzzi than a tub.

Shirou squeezes past him and steps into the room. His blue-white shirt contrasts horribly and in a jolt EMIYA realizes that he can get rid of it now. He steps up behind the teen and places his arms over his shoulders, reaching down towards his stomach and bringing his face close to the other’s neck. His hands roam over Shirou’s body before snaking their way under the hem of his shirt and pulling it up. “Off,” he growls into the omega’s ear and with a groan Shirou obliges, raising his arms so the Servant can lift the shirt up and off of him, along with the shoulder-bag he’d brought with him. He flings them aside, wasting no time in returning to the petite boy’s body, stroking his hands up and down as he explores the slight, lean form. The unnamable scent flares again, and the honey-apple-summer fills his nose, as close to the neck glands as he is.

“D-door…”

Archer growls again, but releases Shirou to close the door and turn the latch. The very thought of someone else seeing  _ his  _ omega like this enough to send a lance of mingled jealousy and fury stabbing into his chest. When he turns around, the teen has gone to the bed and is sitting on the lip, fiddling with his fly. In the low light his eyes are wide and dark, and his chest is flushed as red as his face. His nipples stand like sentinels, red and engorged.

Archer takes a step towards him, then pauses for a moment. This is Shirou’s first time in heat, first time at all, as far as he knows, outside of Rin’s mana-transfer to him, and the Servant knows just how Rin was when he was in that situation; businesslike, then lustful, but with little warmth. That came later, but  _ he  _ would start now.

Resolved, he strides forward and drops to one knee before his younger self. He reaches out and takes him gently by the chin, raising the boy’s eyes to meet his own before leaning in. He keeps eye contact as their lips touch, softly at first. Shirou’s lips are damp and hot and warm. He holds the chaste kiss for a moment, before deepening it, opening his mouth and asking entry for his tongue. Shirou complies with a groan, opening easily to allow Archer to explore his mouth; passively at first, then he replies with his own tongue, rubbing and curling it against the Servant’s. By the time they come up for air they’re panting, but the teen’s eyes are dancing as he hooks his arms behind EMIYA’s head and pulls him in again, falling backwards onto the bed and pulling the Servant down with him.

For a while, the dark-skinned man is content to ravish the boy’s mouth, tasting the minty toothpaste that he must have used while he was fetching the money, drinking in his sounds and carding his hands in his hair, but before long the sweetness filling his nose is overpowering.

He shifts his hands lower, playing over the omega’s nipples with feather-light touches. 

Finally, Shirou lets out a sound between a moan and a yell and arches off the bed before coming down, panting. Archer pauses, pulling away from the teen’s mouth and supporting himself on his hands.

“Did you...?”

“Y-yeah, ha,” says Shirou, “C-came. Oh-megas… come easily. Don’t need-”

“You don’t need me to touch your cock,” finishes Archer, staring down at the boy’s blown eyes and puffy, swollen lips. The  _ desire _ wafts up and fills his nose, but he holds back. “Do you want to stop here, or wait, or...?”

“No! No, no, carry on,” cried the omega. “I- I want more. N-now.”

The hot-prideful-smug thing that EMIYA’s beginning to recognize as this body’s alpha instincts  _ purrs _ , and so does he. He rolls off to the side and sits up, pulling his own t-shirt over his head and discarding it over the side of the bed. Then he reaches over to the pretty, pretty teen and hoists him up and onto his lap so Shirou’s back is flush to his chest.

“More?” he asks, reaching one hand down to toy with Shirou’s unbuttoned fly and the other up to play with a swollen nipple. “What do you want?” 

The boy cries as he tweaks the reddened nub, looking down over his shoulder and watching the frantic rise and fall of the hairless chest. “Do you want out of these?” He plays with the fly.

“Yes!”

“Alright,” he pulls the zipper down, then hooks both arms under Shirou’s and lifts him up, reveling in the power of the act. The boy squirms, reaching down and kicking off his sneakers before pulling down his jeans to reveal a pair of red boxers, as before. They’re not all red, though. On the back, in the middle beneath which the cheeks must meet is a heart-shaped patch of white - or, rather, what should be white. Instead, it’s almost transparent with dampness. It’s not dripping, but they’re clearly soaked through. The scent of  _ readiness _ , of  _ now _ and  _ here _ and  _ want _ digs its claws into Archer’s mind. He licks his lips and tastes the remains of Shirou’s mouth on them.

“I-it comes off.”

There’s something about the tone that makes the Servant pause, something more than ‘take the pants off.’

“What do you mean?”

“The back. The white part. They’re heat pants. It comes off. Here.” Shirou squirms around, reaching an arm behind him and into his pants, pulling on some hidden tag, and the white area goes slack. A yank later and it’s gone, leaving the skin, glossy with the oily slick, revealed before Archer’s eyes.

Shirou’s ass is small and tight, the cheeks drawn back to reveal his hole, glistening darkly in the half-light. It’s already puffy around the edges, a soft ridge of flesh circling it and leading down to the dark centre. The Servant’s cock feels like an iron bar in his pants, almost painful.

Abruptly he lifts the omega up and off to the side, sitting him down on the bed. He stands and pulls his shoes off then wrestles with his own fly, pulling it down. As he hooks his thumbs into the waist, though, he feels two more at the back. He turns to find that Shirou has sat forwards onto his knees and is leaning over, trying to help. The boy’s white socks stand out against the bedding and the Servant can clearly see the wetness atop the little bulge of Shirou’s cock.

“Let me,” the teen says, blushing but determined. “I want to- to strip you.”

Archer smiles at Shirou’s initiative. “Do you want me to help?”

The red-head shakes his head, saying nothing but zeroing in on the Servant’s crotch and pulling the fly down the rest of the way. Archer moves one hand to Shirou’s head and the other to his shoulder as the boy takes a hold of the hem of his trousers and starts to draw it down, revealing the Servant’s own underwear - a pair of cheap white briefs that he’s seriously regretting now for their restrictiveness. It’s worth it, though, for the faint gasp of in-taken breath as the omega catches sight of the outline of his cock through the material. His hands flutter upwards from the trousers, but Archer moves the hand on the boy’s shoulder to his arm. “One thing at a time,” he says, smiling. Shirou returns the smile and returns to the trousers, pulling them down past EMIYA’s knees until he can step out of them. While he’s at it, the white-haired man leans down to pull off his socks, too, leaving him bare save for the briefs.

When he straightens up again Shirou has sat back on his haunches but leans forward almost reflexively to meet the alpha. He reaches out his hands towards the briefs, then hesitates, looking up towards Archer for approval. “Do what you want.” Emboldened, Shirou grabs the waistband and yanks down, allowing EMIYA’s cock free.

The Servant hasn’t had any occasion to investigate his member since his summoning, but it was definitely larger than in his human life, both thicker and longer. Shirou seems almost entranced, leaning further off the bed until he was almost nuzzling it. Archer moves forwards so the omega wouldn’t overbalance and guides him back with a hand on his head so he can step out of his briefs completely.

Shirou’s tongue flickers out and suddenly Archer can’t think of anything but having the teen’s mouth on his cock. He steps back towards him, but he’s preempted. As he steps forward, Shirou grasps his cock in one hand and brings it towards his face. This time he really does nuzzle it, rubbing his mouth and cheek along its length, drinking it in. The image is near-orgasmic and EMIYA wets his lips, but before he can say anything the teen draws back, brings the tip to his mouth and licks it.

Archer’s hand shoots out and curls in the boy’s hair as he groans at the feeling. More licks tease and tickle at his foreskin, slipping underneath and rooting around as if the redhead is searching for something under there. Archer closes his eyes, drinking in the sensation while it lasts. Then it stops, and he opens his eyes to see the teen opening his mouth wide and stretching it around the tip of his cock.

If Shirou’s licks had been hot, this was a furnace. It was only the tip of his member that was enveloped in the wet heat, but it feels like so much more. The boy continues to lick and lap at the cock in his mouth but second by second he pulls it in deeper until the Servant can feel resistance at the tip. A little over half of his cock has disappeared between the teen’s lips. Finally, Shirou pulls off, panting but with a joyous light in his eyes. EMIYA finds that he’s breathless too.

“I thought you said this was your first time other than Rin?”

“Well, yeah, but I have internet,” the teen protests, looking downright debauched with a cock in one hand and saliva on his chin. “I did, uh, research. There’s sites for this kind of thing.”

Another image crashes into Archer’s mind; Shirou at a computer, looking with wide-eyed curiosity at a sex-instruction video. It’s silly, not to mention wrong, but the idea that Shirou had researched for  _ him _ , how to please  _ him _ (nevermind that it certainly hadn’t been him in mind) is hot as hell. His hand in the boy’s hair clenches and Shirou evidently take it as a signal to go back to what he had been doing, as he dives back onto EMIYA’s cock with abandon. He doesn’t make it more than half way but he bobs on and off, forward and backward, slurping at the member and painting it with saliva; slowly at first, but gradually speeding up. 

Archer closes his eyes for a moment as he sinks into Shirou’s rhythm, rocking gently back and forth in time with the boy’s head. Imagining his mouth stretched around his cock is almost better than seeing it. 

_ Almost _ , he thinks to himself as he looks down. His dick looks to big to fit into the magus’ small mouth, but it does, and it looks  _ obscene _ . The Servant loves it. 

“Deeper,” he grunts, thrusting forwards. He gets almost three quarters in this time, and he can feel the top of Shirou’s throat around his tip. 

Over Shirou’s head, the top of the heart-shaped opening winks at the Servant, flashing damp and shiny skin. He reaches an arm over Shirou’s back, stretching down towards- yes! He feels the slick on his fingers and probes the edges of the hole, poking at it but not penetrating, massaging at its edges. The redhead tries to vocalize around the Servant’s cock but the content is lost, leaving only the humming vibration. His member throbs. It feels good,  _ so good _ , but Archer pulls back, pulls out of the redhead’s mouth. It leaves with a soft, liquid  _ pop,  _ and a trail of saliva links the tip to the boy’s lips.

“Ah- ha, that’s good,” says Shirou, once he has his breath back. “How are you this  _ good _ ?”

“I had quite a lot of practise, before I was a Servant,” replies Archer, though he hasn’t had  _ that _ much experience with men before. He’s tried a few times and his efforts have been well-received, but he’s not an expert. The heat is probably helping him along. Shirou frowns, but seemed to shake it off. He goes back in towards Archer’s cock, but the Servant steadies him, pulling back a little. “Wait a moment. How do you want this to go? Do you want to carry on with this-” he gestures to his cock, damp and still held in the boy’s hand “Or something else?”

Shirou chews his lip. “I wanna do whatever you do.”

Archer steps away, pulling his cock out of the younger's grip and squatting down. “That’s not how this goes, not unless you’re absolutely sure you want me to control all of this. I will if you want me to, but that shouldn’t be your… default.”

The boy sat back up on the bed, tucking his legs in. He looks uncomfortable with being given the power of decision. Archer wonders what omegas are taught about their heats, and about their relations to alphas. Just like before, at the Emiya house, the Servant’s eyes are drawn to the bulge in the red pants - small and slender but obviously hard, even only minutes after coming. He can see the damp patch from where Shirou came. He can smell it, even from a metre away. 

“I… want you to feel good,” the boy says eventually. “You’re the alpha, right? I want you to- fuck me. I want you to like it, so… I’ll do what you want?” The questioning rise at the end makes Archer frown.

“No matter what you want,” he begins, “I'll like it. There is nothing about you that won’t make me feel good.” He hears the intake of breath and the teen looks down at the floor, red rising again on his cheeks. Archer doubles down. “You’re beautiful, Shirou,” he says, and finds he means it. “You’re so cute. Your face is so pretty.” He raises a hand to the boy’s shoulder and runs it up his neck to hold his chin, bringing his face up. “Your skin is so smooth, and your  _ body _ .” EMIYA takes a long, shaky breath in. “You look like you should be a statue, carved for perfection, but you’re not. You’re  _ you _ and that makes you all the better.”

“Carry on,” says Shirou in a whisper. EMIYA smiles, and he knows it’s sappy and tender.

“What do you want me to praise? Your mouth?” His fingers trace the boy’s swollen, wet lips. Your eyes?” He runs his thumb along the bone of Shirou’s eye sockets “Your hair?” His hand migrates upwards to stroke the boy’s red spikes as the other latches onto a proud, red nipple. “These?” He leaves the boy’s head and runs both hands down his sides reaching around to tease at the back of his pants. “Or this down here?” Shirou’s mouth drops open and he lets out a breathy cry. His knuckles are white as they clench on the sheets behind him. “It’s all just right, all just  _ perfect _ . It’s a  _ privilege _ to touch you, Shirou. Don’t forget that.”

The boy explodes in a flurry of limbs. His face thrusts forward to catch Archer in a desperate, consuming kiss while his arms and legs fly around the older man’s neck and waist, pulling him off the bed. It’s only EMIYA’s inhuman strength and reflexes that allow him to catch Shirou behind his ass and stay upright as the omega attacks his lips, thrusting his tongue into the elder’s mouth. He comes up for air, breathes “Fuck me,” into the Servant’s ear and returns to his assault.

EMIYA can’t wait any longer.

His hands shift, one to hold the boy better and the other to slip a finger into his hole. It slides in with ease and Shirou moans into the kiss like a porno. Archer swallows the sound greedily, painfully conscious of his dick rubbing up against the front of Shirou’s boxers. He slips a second finger in and pulls back from the kiss as the teen wails. “Do you want those off?” he growls, barely able to articulate the words. Shirou shakes his head vigorously before diving back in again.

Archer has no problems with this. Those ‘heat pants’ are adorable, and they fit his little omega so very well.

His fingers roam inside the boy, massaging at his inner walls. At first he keeps them together, then he starts to scissor them, working the soft, elastic opening wider still. His memories of his other male partners are old and faded, but he knows they weren’t this loose, this eager. He chalks it up to the heat and just concentrates on the pleasure, his and Shirou’s. That hot-prideful thing is back again, purring in his mind that the omega is so ready for him. He can't help but feel the same as he slides a third finger in and the redhead keens into his mouth. Material of the pants rubs against his cock as Shirou ruts forward and he feels a sudden dampness as the teen yells and his ass clenches in rings around his fingers, sucking them in further and constricting around them.  _ He came again,  _ Archer realizes in a daze, and wonders what it’ll feel like when he’s inside his younger self when he comes.

He shouldn’t have thought that.

The clenches are beginning to die down and Shirou has returned to his mouth, lazily kissing and sucking at it with lidded eyes. Archer spreads his fingers, testing how far the omega’s ass will stretch. He can feel the space between them, so probably enough. He withdraw the digits - to a low whine from the boy - and moves both hands to his thighs, lifting the teen up and off and spilling him onto the bed. The redhead sprawls there, blinking up at him and as Archer crawls up the bed himself, a thought battles through the lusty haze of his mind.

“Condom.”

He could kick himself. In his haste, he hadn’t bought any condoms. He was a Servant, so he wouldn’t be carrying any diseases, nor could he catch any, and it wasn’t like there’d be the same kinds of possible issues as if Shirou was a girl - could Servants have children anyway? - but to not bring any at all?

“Don’ want one,” Shirou moans, rolling over and thrusting out his pelvis to put his ass on display, arms above his head to grab at the pillow. EMIYA’s cock jumps at the site of the puffy, open hole. He can see the red flesh inside, pulsing. He wonders whether the boy saw that on one of his instruction videos. “Want you. Now.”

“Are you sure?” the Servant asks as his runs his hands up the teen’s flanks before planting them on either side of his head, tripping the younger Emiya between the pillars. 

“I’m sure,” Shirou declares, and the Servant can  _ see _ the resolve in his eyes.

EMIYA can’t refuse him.

He ruts up against the teen’s ass, slipping once, twice, three times before the tip of his cock catches on the omega’s rim and he bucks, up first to get a better angle and then slowly, tortuously down.

It’s perfect.

The walls are slick and he slides in without difficulty but they’re tight enough, too, to cling to his cock, to hold it firm and tight. A drawn-out moan escapes Shirou’s lips, rising as the Servant presses in further and further. It’s an effort to not just thrust in, deep and hard all at once, to keep from just burying himself in the slight form. His hips stutter forwards and the teen’s breath catches. His hands clench on the pillow. Archer pauses and pulls back, afraid he’s hurt the little omega, but Shirou’s hips follow him and a moaned “Nooo!” spurs him to resume his advance.

It feels like he’ll never stop, like there’s no limit to the space Shirou has inside, so when EMIYA finally bottoms out it comes as almost a surprise. He looks down between their bodies and the sight of his cock buried to the very base in the omega’s hole, of his crotch flush against the heat-shaped opening of the heat pants is enough to make his member throb inside the teen. Shirou’s moan has died to a wordless purr of satisfaction and the side of his face that Archer can see looks almost blissed-out, brassy eyes staring into nothingness. 

Abruptly, the Servant realises that he’s been holding his breath and releases it in a burst. Words rush out on the breath’s heels, a jumble of “So good” and “Perfect” and “Beautiful. Because Shirou  _ is _ . The contrast of the pale skin against the dark, how he fits so perfectly, all of it just  _ right _ .

“Mooor-”

Before the boy can finish, Archer rocks his hips back and out and then  _ in _ again. The word disappears into an inarticulate yell of pleasure. The Servant starts up a steady pace, pulling out and then plunging back in. Before long his groans are the tenor to Shirou’s soprano. Everything is hot and wet and right, and he experiments with coming from slightly different angles, feeling out the omega’s insides, searching for…  _ there. _

As he pushes in once more, the tip of his cock drags over something puffy and the teen arches back and  _ wails _ , startlingly loud. Archer’s face twists into a smug smile as the redhead’s breathing turns shaky, but his channel doesn’t constrict like he had hoped. He pulls out, then thrusts in again at the same angle, harder this time, enough to push the smaller Emiya up the bed with a cry. Then he pistons out and in again, and again, and again, each thrust harder than the last, until there’s no gaps in Shirou’s euphoric wail, only rises and lulls. The boy’s face is pressed into the pillow now, muffling him a little, but not enough to silence his cries.

Suddenly, EMIYA pulls backwards as he sits up on his knees, grabbing the boy’s arm to pull him back with him, up and out of the pillow. “I want to hear you,” he growls, and he can barely recognize his own voice as he pulls the boy back onto his member in time with his thrust forward. His other hand snakes down to the front of the heat-pants and rubs at the wet hardness he finds there through the material. Once, twice, then he slips the hand under the cloth and takes the omega’s cock in his hand. Shirou’s cock is small enough to fit all in one hand, even when fully-erect, and the Servant hears a choke as he touches it, rups a callused finger over the weeping tip, pulls down once and-

Wetness spurts over his hand as the teen’s passage convulses around his cock, dragging it in and milking it. He throbs once, pulls back to slam spasmodically in, then comes like a flood into the omega’s hole. His hips jitter as he pumps his seed into the teen, who has collapsed bonelessly into the bed, moaning. He comes for what feels like an age before finally, when white begins to leak out around the edges of Shirou’s ass, he comes to a halt, suddenly tired. Not exhausted, thanks to his Servant body, but tired in a way he hasn’t been since the Grail War ended.

He has enough presence of mind to fall to the side, dragging Shrou with him, and pulls the boy into his chest, still buried deep in his ass.

“Lve you, ‘Cher,” mumbles the omega, snuggling tiredly back into him. 

“I love you too, Shirou,” the Servant says, and it’s true. There’s no reply. The omega has fallen asleep. Archer contemplates waking him, but decides better of it, preferring to nuzzle into the petite boy’s neck and drink in his scent. They’ll deal with it later.


End file.
